


Thirst for a First

by TwistedSpoon



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedSpoon/pseuds/TwistedSpoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some Optimus and Ratchet lovin'. Optimus has never interfaced before. He's very shy and nervous about it. Ratchet wants to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirst for a First

**Author's Note:**

> 2015-05-12 note: edited from past tense to present tense and tweaked it here and there.

Optimus Prime’s thoughts are occupied with sinister things. Thoughts of ever blossoming conflict on Cybertron, of a severed bond with someone he once called friend. That particular wound so very open and gushing. Indeed, his worst fear might yet come to pass, the word war so close to materializing in mass murder, battle hardened hatred and in acts so heinously committed that no spark would be left untainted.

When Optimus’s thoughts grow too overshadowed by what might come to pass and what has already transpired, he seeks out the closeness and comfort of his longtime friend, Ratchet. Today is no exception.

Optimus walks along the dark streets of Iacon’s west district. A district well known for its medical facilities. Ratchet, Chief Medical Officer makes his home in an off-break of the most traversed medical hub, Halycon’s Refuge.

The Prime stops outside Ratchet’s medbay, collects his thoughts, before his digits trace over the sliding door’s buttons, letting him inside. Ratchet is used to Optimus coming and going as he pleases, they are, after all, what most mechs would consider to be very close friends.

The sliding door shuts itself firmly behind Optimus. He immediately spots the medic, standing upright, in profile, with optics focusing on a gadget on the table before him. Optimus scans the big space and every medical slab for signs of patients, but Ratchet is alone. He’s relieved at the prospect of privacy. He cannot well spill his innermost thoughts and fears with prying audio sensors so close.

Ratchet doesn’t turn his head as Optimus approaches him.

“For Primus sake, do you know what time it-“ Ratchet turns his head to see that it is Optimus who encroaches on his space, recognizing his shadow looming over his table. “Optimus. I’m sorry. I did not expect you to come by at this time of cycle.” Ratchet gives Optimus a warm smile, one of apology and welcome.

“It is me who should apologize Ratchet. I did not announce my presence.” Optimus only faintly returns Ratchet’s smile and the medic notices. Ratchet’s gaze lingers for a while on Optimus’s frame, his optics trail from his face and down to his double windowed chassis. Much has changed ever since Orion Pax became Optimus Prime. Sometimes, Ratchet wonders if they are two completely separate entities, mostly as an amused afterthought. Deep down Ratchet knows that Optimus’s basic circuitry remains the same. Mechs who do not know Optimus mistake his lack of words and reaction as apathy. They are fools to believe so. Optimus cares deeply, for his friends, for the fate of strangers, even for his enemies and Ratchet loves him for it, adores him for it. The timidness of Orion Pax followed into the spark of Optimus Prime as Primus bestowed upon him the Matrix of Leadership and it is one of the things Ratchet finds endearing about him.

For long stellar cycles, Ratchet has craved more from his best friend. More than close camaraderie, but how could he ever ask for that? By the bare notion of interfacing Optimus shuts down and leads conversations onto other, less dangerous paths. Pits, Ratchet severely doubts that Optimus has ever had an interfacing partner before.

It does not change that Ratchet knows, sees the looks Optimus sends his way too often for it to be coincidence. Looks of an unmistakable longing. It is possible that Optimus would open up to the idea of being closer if he knew that Ratchet felt the same way. Ratchet postpones any such notion, in fear of rejection, or worse.

Optimus puts a gentle hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “I should apologize again my friend, for coming to you with such heavy thoughts that wear down on my shoulder plates. I do not know where else to turn.”

That sentence sounded better in Optimus’s head. In reality, he thinks it sounded whiny, too needy. For a moment, Optimus’s optics darkens with insecurity.

Ratchet blinks once. Who does Optimus think he’s talking to? He sees the mild hurt in his best friend’s optics, his doubt. Of all bots, Ratchet knows him best and he wants Optimus to need him. How can he not realize that?

It is merely a sudden spark in Ratchet’s mind, an idea that wants Optimus to realize that he is something dearly craved, when Ratchet lets go of the particle-cauterizer in his hand and takes a hold on Optimus’s hand resting on his shoulder. He turns Optimus’s cool palm up and slowly leads it up to his lips. Ratchet sees the Prime’s optics widen in surprise before he presses his lips on to Optimus’s palm and closes his optics. Ratchet lets the moment sweep over him and keeps his lips on Optimus as long as he dares. He then looks at Optimus, letting his gaze burn itself into the Prime’s brain. He hopes his optics convey to Optimus what he does not yet dare speak aloud. _I want you. I need you. I want you to need me._  

Shock washes over Optimus. Ratchet’s message is one of impossible misunderstanding. For just a klik, Optimus wants to yank his hand away as he feels Ratchet’s lips upon his palm, as if burned, but he refrains. Surprise and curiosity keeps him from moving. His spark flutters in nervousness. What is he supposed to do?

“Ratchet… what are you doing?”

“I was kissing your palm.”

Ratchet’s warm smile and optics radiate unadulterated affection. “Do you want me to do it again?”

As Ratchet expects, his question makes Optimus shut down. Optimus gently withdraws his hand and his stare shifts from one of surprise to fixate on the ground before him, as if the ground he stands on has done him grave humiliation. Optimus’s optics are overflowing with doubt and embarrassment.

Ratchet makes an effort to calm himself, more so than Optimus. He’s afraid that what he just did could be a setback for their relationship, but on the other hand, he believes it was time to show what he feels. A beginner will always be nervous, until their ability has been proven, and boy, does he want to make his best friend see that his ability extends far beyond his own expectations, given some practice.

Ratchet steps closer to Optimus, stops just shy of his broad chassis, his hand reaches for the side of Optimus’s face. He expects Optimus to wince away from his touch, but contrary to his fear, Optimus does not move. Optimus is so tall that Ratchet can barely reach him, but he succeeds.

Optimus then looks at Ratchet with uncertainty. Ratchet cups his face in his palm, the medic’s optics trying their best to comfort, to swipe away his ill thoughts. Optimus didn’t see this coming, not in a million metacycles. To find himself desired by the one mech he wants most, he’s at a loss with what to do with himself. Looking into Ratchet’s blue optics Optimus realizes he no longer wants to shy away from his touch, from the subject of interfacing. Surely, sharing such an intimate experience with his most trusted friend will be odd and new, but his want strongly starts to overshadow fears of enemies using his actions against him.

“Ratchet. Your affection, it overwhelms me…” Optimus puts his own hand on top of Ratchet’s resting on his faceplate, gives it a light squeeze and readies himself to dismiss the feelings currently blazing through him. “Does it mean what I think it means? If not you have to seize with what you’re doing.”

Ratchet responds with his warm smile, the rare gesture he reserves almost exclusively for Optimus, a thing the Prime would have noticed had he not been blinded by his own insecurities. “If this is not answer enough for you I don’t know what is.” Ratchet tugs on one of Optimus’s windows and pulls him down. Their lips are on each other in just a blink of optics.

The kiss is long, it is sweet and it is tender. Both mechs close their optics as pleasant heatwaves surge and fade in their frames, from chassis, down to groin. Panting escapes Optimus’s mouth as they pull apart. His optics are wide in astonishment. “I want you” is all that he can muster.

“And I want you.” Ratchet can’t help but grin with excitement as he witnesses Optimus lose his cool. Optimus roughly settles his hand on Ratchet’s neck, tugging him closer while offering the medic the most longing and lustful look he can make, even though it feels slightly odd.

It feels like Ratchet is waiting for something. Optimus does not realize that Ratchet is reveling in the sight of his best friend, the Prime, overpowered by a desire to kiss and… frag? Ratchet can’t believe it. If he had known that such a simple gesture would show Optimus that he wants him, he would have kissed his palm sooner.

“Optimus, do you. Do you want to do it?”

The gears in Optimus’s abdomen clench tightly and uncomfortably by the question.

Yes… yes he does want to do it with Ratchet. Ratchet probably has no idea for how long he has longed to be this close to him, to kiss him, to hold him in his arms, to…

The word is still so new and unfamiliar, Optimus has a hard time even thinking it. Saying it aloud would make a sharp rush of energon rise to his faceplates and threaten to make his knees buckle under him. He can’t answer Ratchet, he’s afraid to. Instead, he pulls Ratchet into his embrace and lets his forehead touch Ratchet’s. Optimus ex-vents, letting exhilaration reign over him. Having Ratchet so close to him, so close that he can feel his fluttering spark underneath his chamber, is overpowering.

Ratchet whispers, his head is just next to Optimus’s, “you have to talk to me. You have to open up to me. Tell me what you want.”

Optimus hesitates, but he knows he’s only postponing the inevitable. “I want. You. I want to be as close to you as I possibly can, and that means… yes, I do want all of you.”

Optimus’s dark thoughts are but erased for the time being, all that matters now is Ratchet. He feels a sincere relief by having spoken aloud for his best friend to hear. He takes in Ratchet’s smile, his face a vision he imagines he will take with him one day when his spark will join his silent brethren in the AllSpark.

“But… I have not… I have never before…” Optimus mutters under his breath.

Ratchet smirks knowingly. “I know Optimus. I might be absent-minded sometimes, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”

Optimus smiles at that. Ratchet’s hand slides out under Optimus’s and chases down his chassis. “Let’s just take it slow. I know how uncomfortable you are with the idea.” Optimus responds with a nod. Ratchet’s hand reaches the outer rim of Optimus’s interface panel. He lets his thumb play over the visible seams. Optimus stiffens by Ratchet’s intimate touch. In his mind, Ratchet can easily imagine the flush of energon rising right beneath Optimus’s faceplate. Ratchet proceeds to press his palm against Optimus’s interface cover and slowly rubs against it in circles. A slight groan escapes the Prime’s mouth.

Ratchet wants to prepare Optimus for what he wants to do next. “I’d like to ruffle your gears a little bit.” Ratchet tugs on Optimus’s arm and leads him over to his most used workstation. He gently pushes the bigger Optimus down on the chair shouldering the table he so often works on. Optimus grunts as his aft hits the seat.

“Spread your legs” Ratchet bids as gently and encouragingly as he can. Optimus stares at Ratchet in disbelief, but does as told with only a few moments of hesitation. Ratchet is sure that the only way the two of them are going to get anywhere is if he takes the lead and abandons any form of demur.

“What if someone comes knocking? A patient in need of your help?” Optimus asks; the fear of getting caught unsettling him greatly.

“We’ll just have to put our faith in luck won’t we?” Ratchet’s voice is a little too cocky for Optimus’s liking, but he doesn’t press it any further, instead he watches Ratchet kneel between his thighs. Optimus’s abdomen clenches with equal amounts of excitement and tension.

Ratchet re-places his hand on Optimus’s interface panel and starts again with stroking in gentle circles on the shiny surface. He simultaneously puts his other hand on top of Optimus’s thigh plate and brings his lips down upon his inner thigh. Optimus gasps heavily as Ratchet’s lips tease upon his metal. Suddenly Ratchet looks up into Optimus’s optics with a hunger that makes him shudder in surrender. Ratchet’s glossa sticks out to slide across his silver thigh, moving very close to his panel.

Optimus’s interface panel heats up with a fury he never thought he would experience in his life. He lets out a moan as Ratchet’s pressure on his panel and his glossa on his thigh becomes too much, making his interface panel click open to present his rapidly pressurizing spike.

Ratchet’s optics widen as he watches Optimus’s spike grow to its full size. The medic didn’t quite imagine Optimus’s spike would be that impressive.

Ratchet abandons Optimus’s thigh to place his head right before his spike. He looks up at the Prime to observe his reaction to his own spike. Optimus’s hand covers half his face in embarrassment; that much is clear. Ratchet grabs the hand covering Optimus’s face and moves it down to his own spike. “Ratchet, I… oh Primus, what are you doing?”

“Just go with it” Ratchet reassures, his voice husky. Ratchet moves Optimus’s hand further and gently makes him wrap his digits around his spike. The whole of Optimus’s frame shivers as Ratchet’s digits enclose on his spike alongside his own.

“Ratchet…” Optimus pants. “I don’t kno-“ he’s cut short when Ratchet starts guiding and leading Optimus’s hand up and down his spike in slow rhythmic pumps. Caught in a jolt, Optimus grabs the edge of the chair with his unoccupied hand and clutches on to it as if his life depended on it.

Optimus seldom self-services and when he does, he always does it with an amount of shame. He often thinks that it’s his duty as a Prime to rise above carnal desires and urges, but he finds that no amount of shame can keep him from being with Ratchet in this very moment. He’s not yet convinced that he’s allowed to enjoy himself, though it’s getting harder not to, when Ratchet moves his hands like he does, slowly up and down, slightly back and forth. Optimus’s palm is getting increasingly wet with lubricant and he dares a look down at their hands meshed together, catching glimpses of the tip of his spike as their hands move down in unison.

Ratchet slows the pace and looks up into Optimus’s optics. “I didn’t imagine you to be this big.” Without warning Ratchet wraps his mouth around the head of the spike, sending his glossa swirling around the frenulum-seam, making Optimus arch his backstruts and groan in surprise. Ratchet moans with his mouth full and sets his and Optimus’s hands to work again around his spike.

Ratchet throats Optimus’s spike a little deeper for each suck, making the Prime’s frame twitch and jerk. Optimus’s panting becomes heavier. He never imagined that a mouth on his spike would feel this good. The thought of what Ratchet does to him right now forces strong surges of energon to his face, making his cheek area burning hot. He resists the urge to look away from the action, to cover his face with his hand again, to look anywhere but at what is actually happening right now. Instead, Optimus clenches on to the side of the chair and forces himself to look at Ratchet’s mouth on his spike and their hands on one another, encircled around it. He groans and takes in the sight. His shoulders relax, finally. With that, Optimus is no longer able to contain the pleasure overwhelming him. “Oh Ratchet.” A shameless outcry leaves Optimus’s lips right after. Ratchet only moans louder around his spike as he hears Optimus rumble his appreciation. “I-it feels nice…” Optimus places a gentle hand on Ratchet’s shoulder as invitation to continue.  

Ratchet is clearly no beginner. In only a flash of moments Optimus wonders how many others Ratchet has done this with, but when Ratchet’s glossa presses onto the slit of his spike in an especially needy way and sucks hardly, that thought fades from his mind as fast as it surfaced. Optimus’s digits dig into Ratchet’s shoulder. It almost feels too good, his spike is especially sensitive right on its tip. “Oh Primus!” Optimus’s dentals smash shut subsequent to his exclamation. Ratchet’s mouth on his spike quickens, his glossa now slides up and down his length and his lips firmly encompass his girth. Slowly, Ratchet surrenders control of his hand on his spike, letting Optimus set his own pace. Optimus is now so into it that he sets a fast beat with his hand. It makes his legs quiver around Ratchet’s frame, the rare but familiar feeling of an overload now building in his body. Ratchet feels it; Optimus is certain, because of Ratchet’s peaking determination.

Finally, Optimus’s whole frame tenses and he tries to bite back his partner’s name in vain. “Oh Ratchet!” His overload crashes hard through his system. Optimus watches as Ratchet takes and swallows his transfluid. Ratchet is close to gagging on his size as Optimus stiffens, the Prime’s hand clutches on to Ratchet’s shoulder. What Optimus just saw and felt is something he knows he will remember for a long time. He ex-vents heavily as his overload ebbs away and then slumps back in the chair, a deep feeling of fulfillment taking a hold of his frame. He looks down at Ratchet, who’s panting lightly and smiling up at him, his face now hovers in front of his spike.

Ratchet gets up on his pedes and wipes away the rest of the transfluid still visible on his mouth with the back of his hand. Optimus didn’t notice that Ratchet’s own interface cover clicked open while his mouth was on his spike. The medic stands up with his neglected spike and valve array clearly visible. Ratchet is undoubtedly excited. Drops of lubricant exude from the tip of his spike, his length at full-mast.

Optimus can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he sees Ratchet stand before him, unsatisfied. Should he get right on to reciprocating and if so, how? A returning sense of deep insecurity about what to do threatens to replace his feeling of fulfillment. Ratchet seems to sense it and steps closer to him. He puts his hands on Optimus’s shoulders and then moves to straddle his lap. Their foreheads meet when Ratchet gets comfortable on top of him. Ratchet’s silence unnerves Optimus. He feels like he should say something to break the (for him) uncomfortable silence.

“Thank you… that was, I don’t know how to describe it.”

Ratchet chuckles lightly. “No need to thank me Optimus. I enjoyed it just as much.”

“But, what about you?” Optimus peeks down at Ratchet’s spike. “I’m not sure how to return the… gesture.” Optimus’s voice cracks a little through the sentence, making his throat calipers tighten.

“Don’t worry about me.” Ratchet presses a light kiss onto Optimus’s lips. “All I wanted was for you to loosen up a bit. Get used to this. I’ve wanted to be this intimate with you for a long time. I can wait until you feel more comfortable.”

Optimus relaxes a little by hearing Ratchet’s words, happy to hear that Ratchet after all wanted this just as much, but he still feels wrong about leaving him neglected.

“I want to.”

For just a moment Ratchet stares at Optimus, then he smiles with mischief glinting in his optics. “Okay, just take it slow. You can try and touch it.”

Optimus’s throat tightens even more, but he’s determined to try. His hand reaches for Ratchet’s spike, very tentatively, until his digits finally close around it. The heat emanating from Ratchet’s spike is the first thing that catches him off guard, after that, the slick feeling of it, it already being coated with a glossy layer of lubricant. Optimus cautiously tries to move his hand up, then down, mimicking Ratchet’s previous movements on his own spike. Ratchet immediately responds and elicits a single whimper, his hands grip Optimus’s shoulders a little tighter. Optimus takes that as his first step towards giving Ratchet the pleasure he very badly wants to return. He repeats the motions, making an effort to try to set a pace that will make Ratchet whimper more. It isn’t long before he is successful. Ratchet’s back starts arching, his dentals visibly grind together and his hips shove against Optimus’s pelvis. Ratchet’s hand grips the back of Optimus’s neck. “Keep going, you’re doing good,” Ratchet encourages. “Really good.”

Optimus has no intention of stopping. He loves seeing Ratchet, as he is now, excitement running through his energon cables from watching him moan and twitch under his digits. Ratchet’s spike in his hand feels so peculiar and new, but not unpleasant. Far from it. Optimus catches the moment to mimic Ratchet’s actions further. He presses his thumb lightly onto the tip of his spike, moving it in circles. Ratchet counters by biting his lip, his head falls back a klik from the pleasure. When Optimus gives him a moment’s pause by lifting his thumb, Ratchet smirks, his hand coming round to rest on Optimus’s chassis. “Fast learner…” he coos.

Optimus’s face resurges with burning hot energon by Ratchet’s comment. That’s when he notices a clear drop of fluid hit his inner thigh and watches it trickle down. Optimus didn’t spare a single thought to Ratchet’s valve before that moment. He finds himself hot by the thought of it. Optimus discards any apprehension in favor of finding out what Ratchet’s valve feels like. He lets his unoccupied hand reach beneath Ratchet’s spike to touch the rim of Ratchet’s wet valve. For just a moment Ratchet stiffens, but then he loosens up, his whole frame rumbles in pleasant surprise. Optimus is quickly losing the reservations he carries, letting himself become adventurous, his digits explore Ratchet’s warm valve array. Ratchet’s wetness urges him on, making him lose concentration on his hand pleasuring Ratchet’s spike. If Ratchet is bothered by the new development, he doesn’t say. Ratchet only seems to urge him on further with the grinding of his hips. Optimus’s thoughts are dominated by Ratchet’s valve and how he wants to do what he only rarely dares fantasize about. With those thoughts, Optimus’s spike re-pressurizes. He’s surprised that he stands at attention so soon after his first overload. He then groans as he pushes a digit inside Ratchet’s valve. Ratchet whimpers in response and his legs twitch. “Optimus… oh, yes!”

An undeniable surge of want courses through Optimus by hearing Ratchet’s wanton outcry. He wants more than this. It’s not enough to only feel Ratchet’s valve with his digits. Optimus’s hips roll in his seat, his panting becomes heavier, more urgent than Ratchet’s. He buries his face in Ratchet’s neck, battling with himself. He wants to try it. He needs to try it.

With a sudden force, Optimus pulls out his digits and pushes at Ratchet’s chassis, making Ratchet scoot off his lap in an instant. A shocked look appears on Ratchet’s face. “What…?”

Optimus grabs Ratchet by the arm, not unlike how Ratchet first grabbed his, spins him around, moves the chair out of their way and pushes Ratchet up against the table. Ratchet is too shocked to speak, his optics are wide in surprise. Optimus’s face is very close to the medic’s, his optics darkened with lust. He then grabs Ratchet’s aft, lifts him up on the table and slams him down on his precious workstation. Optimus’s hand pushes his partner down onto a lying position and he hooks his hands underneath Ratchet’s knees and pulls him close with brute force. It’s evident just how much Optimus has taken Ratchet by surprise, because Ratchet stares at him in continuing disbelief, a disbelief soon replaced by heated arousal. Optimus leans in and kisses Ratchet, his hand reaches down for his re-pressurized spike, making the tip touch Ratchet’s valve. Ratchet elicits a heavy gasp as they pull apart, catching his voice again. “Do it.”

Optimus lets a ventilation through his system before doing as Ratchet bids him and then slowly pushes inside his partner. His hands are pressing firmly on Ratchet’s hips. Optimus’s backstruts arch from the new sensation encircling his spike. He looks at Ratchet to see how he reacts. The medic’s mouth is open, his optics closed, the only sound coming out of him continuous gasps. Optimus thrusts slowly and tentatively into Ratchet, feeling his hot and wet alignment stretch to accommodate his size. Ratchet opens his optics again, his vocals interchanging from gasps to sensual moans with each slow thrust. Optimus’s optics are glued to Ratchet’s face, watching his every lip bite and buckle of his head. This is the first time Optimus completely lets go of control and takes in every sensation coming his way as he spikes his partner. Everything from their intertwining metallic tangs to the contours of Ratchet’s sturdy frame.

Optimus picks up the rhythm, while burying his face between Ratchet’s neck and shoulder plate. Loud moans exits his vocalizer as he pins Ratchet’s arms above his head, making Ratchet’s hips buckle into his next thrust. It sends Ratchet into a sensation frenzy, his legs hook around Optimus’s waist, letting Optimus hilt himself as deeply as he can into Ratchet’s valve and hitting his overly sensitive ceiling nodes. “Oh, frag yes! That’s perfect.” Optimus’s spark flutters uncontrollably in excitement from Ratchet’s words.

“Ratchet” Optimus groans.

“Don’t stop!” Ratchet writhes underneath Optimus’s weight, his overload rising rapidly. “Oh Yes! Optimus.” Optimus lets go of Ratchet’s arms and instead places his elbows next to Ratchet’s shoulders. He touches Ratchet’s face with his hand and his forehead comes down to rock against Ratchet’s own. Their faces are so close that they can’t tell one rich alloy scent from the other. Ratchet’s cries out from one of Optimus’s especially deep thrusts and then he trembles when he finally overloads. It burns through his processors; his optics shut in pleasure and Optimus happily watches him climax. Ratchet pants, his frame isn’t relaxing yet as he opens his optics. He motions for Optimus to continue by rolling his hips. “Keep going.” Optimus doesn’t need more convincing. He’s smoldering hot by watching Ratchet overload under him. He doesn’t last long the second time around, his transfluid pumps into Ratchet’s valve. The sensation is so new and so amazing he can do nothing but let it sweep over him and let it take control until his frame slumps.

Optimus almost crashes onto Ratchet as his overload fades away, but stops just shy of his frame. His hand cups the medic’s head. For a while, they are silent, the only audible sound that of their internal cooling fans kicking on. The slow fading heat is almost visible and vibrating between them. Ratchet lazily runs a hand down Optimus’s chassis, appreciating the broadness of it. He then experiences the always-odd feeling of lubricant sliding out as Optimus pulls out of him. Optimus lets his satiated spike rest against Ratchet’s interface panel, his spike touching Ratchet’s. None of them need to say aloud that they enjoy staying like that for the time being. After a while in silence, Ratchet finds eye contact with Optimus. “What happened to slow?”

Optimus resists the urge to look away. Heat builds in his cheeks from the realization of his un-Prime actions. He decides he’s done with that, now that he and Ratchet together burst the bubble. He smiles hesitantly. “I wanted all of you… I lost control.”

“I would like you to lose control more often then.” Ratchet pulls Optimus down for a kiss. Optimus smiles into the kiss, enjoying their long due physical intimacy. “We’re doing this again” Ratchet starts, as their lips part. “Many times. Preferably forever.” Ratchet professes.

Optimus knows that Ratchet is a realist and that the medic does not believe in forever. Normally, Ratchet would scoff and roll his optics at mechs who believe they are immortal beings, but even so, he appreciates Ratchet’s unusual sentiment.

Forever is a long time Optimus ponders and many things could go wrong before they even start on forever. Deep in his spark Optimus has a feeling that he will not live to see the beginning of time stretching into infinity, but for as long as he can possibly get away with he’s happy holding Ratchet close and listen to the pleasant hum of his spark chamber.    

“Yes…” Optimus’s optics are brimming with promise. “Yes we are my friend.”   


End file.
